


The Man on the Tightrope

by carvedwhalebones (fuckyeahlucifersupernatural)



Category: Dishonored (Video Game), Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Body Horror, High Chaos Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 12:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/carvedwhalebones
Summary: Daud faces the consequences of his actions.





	The Man on the Tightrope

**Author's Note:**

> **Tumblr URL:** carvedwhalebones.tumblr.com
> 
> **For High Chaos Week 2017**

There is a rot that has been growing underneath the flesh of his marked hand. 

He sees where the skin around the ink has begun to blacken, stretching down each finger, eroding the root of each nail.  A faint scent of decay that permeates from within, one Daud cannot scrub off or remove. Daud learns, quickly, to wear gloves. It dulls the scent and hides the growing discoloration that seems to grow with each passing usage of his Void-based gifts. 

It’s by fluke that Daud finds a way to halt the surreal state of decomposition. Carving an arcane bond into one of Dunwall’s forgotten youth prevents new growth. Each press of ink, recited spell, and shedding of blood for the promise of allegiance leads to another carrying the weight of Daud’s decisions with his mark. So he builds a group and ignores the purpling that never seems to disappear from where he has laid his claim. 

Billie breaks the spell and Daud begins to rot. 

Corvo’s entrance is a strange blessing in disguise, at the brink of death and too weak to fight off his invasive methods. He waits to find proofs of the same fate on Corvo. He rips off the man’s muddied Lord Protector uniform, movements erratic, looking for signs of decay. There is nothing, Corvo stripped bare in his makeshift cell. His mark pristine and flesh unsullied. 

“Punishing me?” a snarl thrown at the younger male, but it is not meant for him. Corvo shifts on his spot on the floor, letting the vermin nip at his fingers, breath ragged from whatever is raging through his system. Poison. Nothing from The Outsider’s Mark. 

_“Well?”_ Daud continues, eyes searching the small space. 

He has taken, after Billie’s death, to cursing at the nearby shrines. Hissing of a certain unfairness that is to be found when nails fall, again, or when the rot creeps dangerously higher. It is moving faster, settling across his arm and touching upon his shoulder. Something akin to mold has begun to take form between each finger, a strange sort of green and blue. To find that Corvo does not suffer the same fate has him grinding his teeth, barring them at every shadow. 

_“I guess you know by now these things have a way of catching up with you.”_

The Outsider answers his call, but not in his typical form. He has settled behind the eyes of a rat, somewhere near Corvo’s sprawled body. 

“So this is your doing?” Daud seethes, stepping dangerously close to The Outsider. 

_“I am only a spectator, Daud.”_

The Outsider leaves before Daud can set his boot upon him. 

**********

 

Corvo finds his revenge, but not in the way he expected. When he comes to claim his life, Corvo directs his blade at the Whalers. He cuts them down where they stand, tied to an arcane obligation. Realization dawns upon Daud when his hand smarts, something beginning to pinch between his glove and flesh.

Daud has taken to ripping the glove off of his marked hand, feeling it catch upon something. His hand is soaked in dark shades of purple and black, colorfully spotted by the reappearance of mold in light shades of greens. It is creeping and growing, moving at a snail’s pace from the Outsider’s Mark, coating his flesh with the differing shades and hardening, taking upon the appearance of what looks like coral. 

Daud tries to remove it with his hand, but he only succeeds in pulling at flesh, howling as the growth possessively clinging onto him.  
  
“Punishing me?” Daud repeats, breath labored, carefully removing his jacket to see the extent of the damage. The movement is jarred and disjointed with the mass that is pressing out from within his skin, wincing when clothing catches and pulls. He goes to clear his throat, to bark at The Outsider, again, but there is a weight building a few inches beneath his chin. It has begun to grow on his throat. 

“Yes.”

The Outsider does not answer his call, but Corvo does.

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


End file.
